


For Your Eyes Only

by bitchin_flash



Series: Olivarry Week 2018 [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry and Oliver are both lonely, Barry the Friendly Ghost, Day One, Fluff, M/M, Olivarry Week 2018, Oliver is the Arrow, Some angst, Supernatural - Freeform, Thea knows all, accidental slowburn, messy timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 09:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15312747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchin_flash/pseuds/bitchin_flash
Summary: Oliver’s dishes are pristinely positioned in a neat pile on the counter beside the sink. There’s actual food in the fridge. Not the five minute plastic microwavable food but proper smoked salmon sandwiches (his favourite kind) that someone has pre-made. His clothes are folded corner to corner in his drawers and he knows for a fact he hadn’t done that. Hell, he hadn’t even washed them.“Maybe it’s a ghost,” Thea jokes, “you could do with some friends…even if they might be dead.”Oliver shoots her the classic eyebrow raised, unamused expression and holds back a sigh, “Thanks, Speedy, but ghosts don’t exist.”-Upon Oliver’s return from the dead after five years on Lian Yu, he buys an apartment to hide from his family and friends. Maybe it’s luck but it just so happens that this particular flat is haunted by his very own Barry the Friendly Ghost





	For Your Eyes Only

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've participated in olivarry week and I'm already a couple of hours late oops. I've never written olivarry either so this will be an adventure :") The timeline for this fic is kinda..messy I guess? It doesn't exactly follow season one of Arrow and you may have to just go along with some of the random ghostly rules. Generally Barry can touch anything if he thinks about it, so if something is thrown at him suddenly, it'll go straight through him (unless he's in a physical form) idk just give me the benefit of the doubt please. Hope you enjoy!

Oliver’s sparse dishes are pristinely positioned in a neat pile on the counter beside the sink. There’s actual food in the fridge. Not the five minute plastic microwavable food but proper smoked salmon sandwiches (his favourite kind – a luxury he couldn’t enjoy on Lian Yu) that someone has premade. His clothes are folded corner to corner in his drawers (boxers left untouched and sprawled around his underwear drawer, he notes)

At first he figured he must have been so exhausted from running around in a green hood that he must have forgotten he’d done it. Ridiculous considering Oliver really isn’t that meticulous. Then he decided Moira must’ve hired a housekeeper for him – someone to keep an eye on him. Oliver nearly rolls his eyes at the thought, it sounded like something that his mother would do; pretend to understand Oliver’s request for privacy and yet send someone to be his hidden babysitter. He was just lucky he kept his operation away from home.

When he confronts Thea about it in Verdant, she insists that _No, Mom hasn’t sent anyone_ – though their mother had been tempted to install security cameras to which Walter had thankfully steered her away from.

“Maybe it’s a ghost,” Thea jokes, sliding her finger along the rim of her pomegranate martini, “you could do with some friends…even if they might be dead." 

Oliver shoots her the Queen classic eyebrow raised, unamused expression and holds back a sigh, “Thanks, Speedy, but ghosts don’t exist.”

She gives a cryptic shrug, “Your flat is clean, you never see who does it, and there’s nothing on the security cameras _you_ installed.” He rolls his eyes what kind of person did you think he was not to install cameras.

“Face it, Ollie, you’re being haunted.”

It’s almost stupid that, as he rides his motorbike back to his flat, he actually considers Thea’s suggestion. He knows she was joking – there was no way she believed in ghosts. Not unless she’d seen what he had lived on the island.

As time passes, as more dishes are done, more meals prepared and Oliver is sure no one else has been in his flat, he finds himself mumbling quiet thanks to the air. Sure, it feels a bit idiotic at first but if there were someone with him, they at least deserve some appreciation, especially since sometimes he finds his bloodied Hood suit cleaned and returned to its hiding spot without any officers crashing down his doors. Unless he wanted to be thrown into Arkham Asylum, there wasn’t much to say about the situation to anyone else. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t need the extra help.

* * *

Barry can barely believe it. Oliver-Freaking-Queen is living in his apartment. A man – who basically came back from the dead – is now living in Barry’s apartment. Well, technically it’s Oliver’s apartment since Barry’s dead but it wasn’t like Barry could leave the area anyway.

He hadn’t left the confines of these same dull walls in…he couldn’t exactly remember when he died. Or where he died. He couldn’t remember anything about his death for that matter. Not much stuck in his head from his life either.

When he’d first found himself in the bare apartment in a panic all he knew was his name. Over time, though, bits and pieces had been coming back in fragments. _My name is Barry Allen. When I was eleven years old, my mother was murdered and my father was arrested (or framed). I moved in with Joe and Iris. She was my best friend and she had brown eyes and a nice smile and was…was…_

It was a mantra he had recited almost every day since he had died and memories started returning. His recollection would only go so far and sometimes he’d find himself struggling to remember things like his parents’ names, the sound of Joe’s voice or even what he himself looked like. Up until the return of Oliver Queen, Barry had led a lonely existence.

Somehow, as soon as Oliver stepped foot into the apartment, Barry just knew instantly who he was to the public. _The Queen’s Gambit…no survivors…Oliver Queen…billionaire…presumed dead…_ The fact that he was back after five years amazed Barry. It was impossible to come back from the dead as far as he knew. Yet, Barry found himself believing the impossible a lot more easily than he had thought he would. 

And so, with this newfound fascination in the man who had strengthened his belief, Barry Allen helped Oliver Queen with the housework. He hadn’t been completely sure of his ghostly capabilities but as of right now, he knows that he can move small objects without much difficulty and, unless he concentrated, he was invisible to the rest of the world (and all he could really do was flicker in front of the mirror for a couple of seconds).

Ghosts didn’t sleep much but Barry liked to give his roommate privacy, taking the time to wander around the apartment for the hundredth time that day. He learned a lot from cleaning the flat whenever he was out. Oliver still has plenty of suits that he wears to visit his sister and turns up at Queen Consolidated in. Oliver Queen is a vigilante that murders (if Barry ever spoke to Oliver, oh, he would have a word). Oliver doesn’t watch movies much but he does sometimes like to quietly play 80s music. There’s never anyone else in the house and he only occasionally goes out to actually meet his family.

Oliver Queen is lonely. And maybe he’d like a friend.

Even if potential friend is meant to be dead and has been through Oliver’s underwear drawer before.

* * *

It was Barry’s idea to start leaving notes. Knowing that Oliver felt ridiculous talking to himself, he figured they might as well start communicating and confirm Barry’s existence. It’s almost the biggest decision he’s ever made (it definitely is in this part of his afterlife anyway). Why risk this relationship for scaring Oliver off because his apartment is haunted? Barry doesn’t want to be alone again. But he also wants to actually communicate with man he lives with.

His gaze lingers on the doorway where he’s sure Oliver is about to return from lunch with Thea any moment now and flickers back to the paper on the table and the pen wavering in his hand. Footsteps that are distinctly Oliver’s echo in the hallway and Barry panics and settle on a simple scrawl.

_Hi :)_

He wants to take back the smiley face almost immediately but Oliver strides into the room and Barry steps away from the table like a guilty child even though he knows in his heart that Oliver can’t even see him.

For his part, Oliver – hyperaware of his surroundings as always – notices the yellow sticky note immediately and picks it up, letting a small smile grace his face. Barry, still lingering like a nervous butterfly, releases a little sigh of a relief at the positive response. He ignores the slight skip in his heart at how beautiful Oliver looks when he smiles, telling himself that he’s just happy that Oliver hadn’t run out screaming (Oliver would probably be more collected than that and get his bow and arrows out – Barry wasn’t sure which was worse)

Barry barely has time to bask in his success when Oliver picks up the previously discarded pen and writes in smaller slightly messy letters below his message. 

 _Thanks_.

Out loud, Oliver asks thin air, “What’s your name?” He can almost sense Barry’s mad dash for the pen and his scrabble towards the post-it. It’s fascinating to watch the pen move by itself, controlled by an invisible being, finally revealing his roommate poltergeist’s name.

_Barry_

Barry. Somehow it fits. Oliver can’t exactly place a name to face but at least he can place it with actions and so far he has a pretty good impression of the man.

* * *

It takes time but they work out a routine. Barry leaves notes in the morning for Oliver, Oliver comes home and tells Barry about his day, about Diggle, Laurel, Felicity, Thea and Barry soaks in all the information from the outside world. Barry’s there for Oliver through his heartbreak with Laurel. He’s there for Oliver’s nightmares and night terrors. No matter what happens, Oliver knows Barry will always be there to listen to him; hell he can barely stop thinking about him.

“You’re smiling more.” Thea points out one afternoon in Big Belly Burger jarring Oliver from his thoughts, “Anyone in your life I should know about?”

Previously mentioned smile returns just as easily and affectionately, “No, no one. I’m just…happy to be spending time with you.”  
  
Thea beams, a grin that lights up her entire face, “We’re happy you’re back, Ollie.”

Oliver’s learned a lot about Barry. From his favourite ice cream flavour to the musicals he watches when he’s sad. If a set of musicals just so happened to appear in the apartment, it’s because Oliver likes them too. He knows that Barry babbles to himself a lot (‘You’re lucky you can’t hear me, I’d probably talk your ear off’ a statement to which Oliver politely objects to) and that he likes dancing when he’s happy. Thanks to his heightened senses, generally he can more or less figure out where exactly Barry is and pretend to make eye contact with the ghost.

Just as Barry’s there for him, Oliver helps Barry remember. It takes an investment in an actual computer and a lot of research but they manage to piece together his life. Still, there’s nothing about Barry’s death.

Neither of them bring it up but there’s an unspoken silence (literally on Barry’s part) that if they find out what happened to Barry, he’d move on. Oliver isn’t familiar with the afterlife and paranormal but it seems like quite a universal concept that when ghosts got closure, they’d fade from this world and into the actual afterlife. It is a universal concept that both of them are reluctant to face.

* * *

Oliver’s not entirely sure when in his life it became normal for him to walk into an empty kitchen in the morning with the TV depicting the most recent Game of Thrones episode (a show Barry insists he watched when he was alive) and a floating frying pan of pancakes. Or when it became natural to just talk to Barry without seeing him and wait for his responses. Or the times when a balled up note with a smiley face drawn on it hits his cheek with surprising aim. It’s at these moments that Oliver feels that he can be himself and is truly happy. It’s where Oliver and the Arrow aren’t conflicting personalities but instead it’s just Oliver. Oliver and his own friendly ghost who somehow wormed his way into Oliver’s closed off heart and made a home for himself.

It’s a cause for celebration when Barry announces (read: writes in frantic capital letters) that he’s been able to leave the flat. Sure, it’s for a couple of hours until he’s zapped back to their flat but it’s still an incredible achievement, especially since he hasn’t completely mastered the technique of being seen. Their flat is decorated in Barry’s handwriting on notes. Some are fun messages for Oliver, others about his life before. Either way, Oliver doesn’t invite people over very often and that’s just how they like it.

They’ve become close over time, inevitable considering they practically live together but close in the sense that when he’s not in the flat, Oliver can’t get Barry out of his mind. Whenever something happens, whether it is good or bad, his first thought is Barry and how he’s going to tell him. Sometimes he catches himself getting distracted and longing to go back home so that he could spend time with Barry.

His feelings weren’t exactly unrequited because it soon became Barry’s favourite hobby to make Oliver smile. There were three different smiles Barry was most familiar with. The small tiny quirk up of the lips when Oliver would return home to a cheeky note on the coffee table. There was the smile where Oliver’s lips would be pressed together in an effort not to smile but his eyes would be brighter with a mirth that wasn’t there before. Personally, Barry’s favourite smile was the one where Oliver smiled with his teeth. It was a rarer occurrence than the other two and Barry would pull the most ridiculous of actions to coax it out. Every time Oliver’s toothy grin does emerge though, Barry can feel a warmth that shouldn’t be there blossom in his chest and a yearning to just wrap his arms around the man.

That is the moment he realises that he’s falling for Oliver Queen.

Barry’s not quite sure what to do after reaching this conclusion. There are so many obstacles in the way. Oliver’s sexuality was not a problem because both men had confessed that they were bisexual, Oliver even going so far as to reveal that when he was younger he’d had a few flings with boys that his parents covered up with money (a fact that had infuriated Barry to no end) 

The real, blindingly obvious problem here: Barry’s dead.

Even if Barry had the courage to confess his crush (what was he, twelve?) to Oliver, there was no way Oliver would want to date a dead man. There was no point in even trying because the relationship just wouldn’t work.

There was no way of overcoming death as far as Barry knows and so, he concludes, this is a secret he’ll take to the grave.

* * *

On March 14th, Oliver takes Barry out for a drink. For two main reasons, the first that it’s Barry’s birthday (a fact both had only found out a couple of weeks ago) and the second because “You’ve done so much for me, Barr, it’s my treat.” And Barry is so incredibly grateful Oliver can’t see him because all he’d find would be a blushing, stammering mess.

 _I’m only 25 and my drinking days are already over :(_  

The note brings one of those small smiles to Oliver’s face as he shakes his head affectionately. “Barry, I’ve seen you drink half a carton of orange juice before. I’m pretty sure you can handle your alcohol.”

There’s a moment where nothing moves and Oliver takes it that Barry’s spluttering with laughter until the pen floats again and he scrawls an Oops? :p God, Oliver wished he could see Barry or even just hear him. There was nothing more that Oliver wanted but to hear Barry laugh. Something told him that it would be the most beautiful sound in the world.

Drinks goes…surprisingly well and relatively uninterrupted. Oliver has an earpiece obviously displayed so he can talk to Barry without any unwanted attention. Although, Barry argues playfully, every time Oliver drives someone away from where Barry is ‘sitting’, he still gets some weird looks.

The bartender barely gives Oliver a second look when he asks for two bottles of beer and leaves them to it. Barry and Oliver make good conversation; Barry communicating sometimes by brief touches on Oliver’s arm or writing out a message. That night they found out that a) ghosts can get drunk and b) Barry was probably a lightweight when he was alive. 

During the night, they slowly forget about being subtle – Barry occasionally swinging his bottle around and freaking out nearby patrons which just sends them both into another bout of laughter.

“In all my life,” Oliver starts between laughs, “I never did think that I’d be sitting in a bar talking to my roommate ghost.”

Barry’s heart flutters (he knows, he’s dead, clearly love does strange things to anybody) and a grin comes easily to his face as he squeezes the man’s hand.

_Well, our lives’ aren’t exactly normal._

A softer smile, without teeth but just as bright, lights up Oliver’s face, “No, they’re not,” he agrees, “It’s hard sometimes…but at least it’s full.”

 _To life not being normal._  

Barry writes the words down, staring into Oliver’s beautiful blue eyes and offers his floating bottle in a toast.

Rather than a verbal response, Oliver picks up the pen and writes underneath in his neat letters:

_To life being full._

He raises his bottle to meet Barry’s and together, they drink.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA so it looks like I'm going to have to make this a multi chap fic because I spend way too much time writing unnecessary stuff to the point I had to basically rewrite it sigh. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave any suggestions or tips below :)


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